Guardian Angel
by Flake of Snow
Summary: The Kidnapping is over; the Queen has returned, the Thief has disappeared, and the Villain has perished. But life is no fairy tale, and each day brings its own troubles. As his powers as an Angel of Death spiral out of control, the Thief finds himself forced to ask a question: Who is Zidane Tribal? Gaia's fate may depend on the answer - ZidanexGarnet, other pairings included.
1. Chapter 1

_I remember something Garland once told me…_

_He said, "Everything happens for a reason"._

_I had never really thought about it before: the reason why things happen…_

_For my entire life I had focused on living and assumed these reasons were simply beyond my understanding._

_I mean, why fight something that is inevitable?_

_If it is fate that controls our lives, then why worry about it?_

_However, something happened all those months ago that made me refuse to accept this ideology._

_I did not want to be a puppet of an uncontrollable destiny any longer._

_I wanted to make my own path, rather than follow one forged by some higher power._

…_was I a fool to believe such things?_

The wind audibly roared across the Pualei Plains, the sound more reminiscent of cutting blades than of a gentle breeze. The region was completely empty of life; no monsters, no trees, only the bare cracked earth remained here. The sky had long since darkened around this place, and yet it was not night; the sun shone as clearly as it had on any other day. Despite this snow fell from the sky, the first known occurrence of it on the otherwise hot and dry Outer Continent.

It centered around the Iifa tree, that solitary tree that appeared to be more like some foreign construction than anything natural-born of Gaia. As powerful as the wind was across the plains surrounding it, here the air was still, almost as though it were too frightened to move, and the snow likewise seemed to avoid it – much for the same reason. And given the reality of this colossal superstructure, that was a very real possibility.

Short of the dead husks of ancient trees – long since deceased, yet refusing to fall – only one thing remained in those decrepit lands: a single figure laid on the ground in a spread-eagle position, face flat down. With the black cloak that covered both head and body it was difficult to tell whether or not this figure was even alive, and the layer of sow covering him only made the task more difficult. The wind howled anew on the plains, yet for a few sparse moments it died down, again as though afraid. Only this time the source of its terror did not seem to be the unholy tree across the horizon.

"Ugh…" The seemingly dead figure on the ground groaned, both of his gloved hands flexing in the snow and pressing down gently on the floor, slowly moving himself up onto his knees with obvious effort – he was tired and he was broken, for more reasons than he cared to count. He wore light-blue garments under his cloak (held together across his collar by what seemed to be a band of string), along with a brown leather belt that stretched down across both of his hips, forming a makeshift sheathe for two daggers that hung from his waist, each disappearing into his cloak. White bandages were wrapped around his lower chest on top of his shirt, the only real indication that he was injured. Concealed in his hood was medium-length blonde hair, bound at the end by a bow of sorts so as to keep it out of the way; his hood had saved it from the ash, though his face was another matter entirely. He was fair of face, and were it not for a number of bruises that adorned it along with pockets of ash, he would even have been referred to as handsome. More than his share of women seemed to think so, at least Women. They were the least of his concerns right now, shocking as it was for him to admit it.

It only took a moment for his senses to return to him, and his body exploded in agonizing pain. He fell forward once more, catching himself on the ground with his right hand while his left flew to his chest and clutched at it, accompanied by the metal clatter of his daggers in their sheaths. His breathe came only in slow, ragged bursts, as his body labored to provide him with it. He remembered fighting, but not here; this sure as hell wasn't Oeilvert.

"Where…am I?" He asked himself quietly, though as his cerulean eyes drifted across the plains around him, he found himself expecting no answer in return. He was alone here. That worried him...a lot. But for some reason he felt relieved by the knowledge.

Slowly he began to rise to his feet with obvious difficulty, and not only because of his weaponry; the injuries he had sustained in that battle did their part in ensuring he had to fight to stand, as did the returning wind. The snow that had covered him slowly fell off, first like a landslide and later like the occasional rock; he was still marked by it in many places, having let it escape into his clothing.

"Where is everyone?" He asked himself once more as he continued to pick himself back up, the wind all but casting his cloak aside in the process and revealing his back – and the brown, monkey-like tail jutting out from his pants, shriveled, as though resenting its owner for dragging it through such difficulty. The wind died down again quickly enough and the cloak returned, settling across his back once more, though the Genome didn't seem to notice at all – his eyes had occupied themselves with examination of his surroundings. These plains – the cracked earth, the harsh winds - they felt so familiar...

Turning his gaze skyward, a speck of snow fell down towards him, and his eyes settled on it, following its journey. "What is this stuff…? Snow?" He wondered out loud, his left hand continuing to clutch at his chest as he remained on his feet, though with some difficulty. Reaching out with his right hand he caught it on the palm, yet as the snow struck it…it slid off, falling like sand. That was wrong. It should have melted...

Narrowing his eyes in a mixture of realization and anger, the Genome turned his eyes about once more – but this time they went directly forward. "This is...ash!" He growled to himself, teeth grinding together under his hood. He understood now – why he was here on the slopes of the Iifa tree. He did not understand how he was here, but he understood why. The others...? They were safe. They had to be. They had _better_ be.

_If fate truly ordained for this to happen…_

With obvious difficulty the figure began to take steps forward, wobbling at first but quickly regaining his balance, having had many years of practice with it. Lady Luck did not forgive a clumsy thief. Could he even call himself that any more? He felt he'd stopped being a thief long ago.

Slowly, warily, the genome approached the Iifa Tree. It seemed so large from here, so close, but he knew it would take hours of walking to get there. Once that would have bothered him, but he just didn't have the strength to care any more. He was too tired. He just wanted this to end.

"It never ends..." He whispered to himself in an undertone, a voice that once sounded youthful and vibrant only months before, yet now seemed old and jaded. Kuja had been right all along. It always came back to this damn tree. It always came back to his damn unforgivable past. And it _never_ ended.

_...then fate has a cruel sense of humor._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Short I know, but it's not meant to be very long. It's the foreshadowing kind of prologue. R&R.**


	2. Chapter 1: Awakening

"What are you doing here...? I thought I told you to go..."

Zidane had leapt across the small chasm separating him from the little 'island' Kuja inhabited. Well, inhabited was a strong word; the Genome was all but collapsed on a patch of grassy ground, laid on his back, head turned to the right, left hand firmly holding his chest wound – head staring away from his younger brother, whose arms were folded beneath his chest.

His cerulean eyes gazed downwards at his brother. He seemed so...pitiful now. Sad. Repentant. Zidane's were no better. "Wouldn't you do the same for me if you knew I was dying?" It was rhetorical; they both knew what the answer was. Kuja's silence all but screamed it.

Turning where he was, Zidane sat down beside his brother, clasping his hands together between his knees. His tail bent around to the left, gently swaying from left to right behind him of its own volition. Silence prevailed, before he quietly whispered an apology, in the form of "...never mind." He didn't know what else to say.

Another moment of silence filled the air between the two of them, Kuja having long since closed his eyes. "Your comrades were able to escape?" He asked quietly, turning his head a little in his brother's direction before turning it back away again. Zidane never even looked at him, content to stare off into the distance. He never thought he'd be having this conversation with a man like Kuja.

"Yeah...I knew you had something to do with it." The runes on those teleport fields as Necron faded away before them...Terran. Zidane could read them quite clearly. Kuja's handiwork, to be sure.

"...I'm glad they made it." And Zidane sensed the sincerity in his words. Kuja had changed. If there were any doubt in Zidane's mind, it had disappeared with those five words.

"Yeah, well...it's our turn to get movin'." Zidane was eager to turn the conversation away towards more practical concerns; this could wait until later. He and Kuja had a _lot_ to talk about. Kuja, however, remained silent. The words were slow in coming; he was hesitant to admit them.

"...I don't deserve to live after all that I've done." And it was true, he didn't. But he did deserve a second chance, to atone for his crimes, to live a different life as Zidane had done.

"I'm useless to this world." Zidane continued to look forward, frowning faintly to himself. "No one's useless... You helped us escape, remember?" Once again silence prevailed. Once again the words were few, slow in coming, but oh-so important.

"After you guys beat me, I had nothing left...nothing more to lose. Then, I finally realized what it means to live..." At this, Zidane fell silent instead, listening patiently to his brother. They had to go, soon. Those vines would be back, and going back up would be a lot harder than on the way down.

"I guess I was too late." Kuja's voice weakened as his head slowly rolled to the right, eyes closing for real this time – they did not open again. Zidane continued to look forward before realizing Kuja had fallen completely silent, turning his head to look at him. Bolting up, he leant over his brother taking him by the left shoulder with his right hand, grimacing as he all but shouted at him. "Hey! Don't you go dying on me, alright!?"

Before he could do anymore he heard a crash from up above, causing him to look directly up with a silent glare, teeth grinding together in frustration. Everything was going wrong. So very, very wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Seeing the vines start to burst out of the walls and into the chambers, Zidane looked back down at Kuja's motionless body. Then at the vines...and then back to Kuja.

He dove onto him. He didn't know what else to do. They couldn't outrun the vines, couldn't outfight them, couldn't survive them...all he could do was try, hopelessly, to shield Kuja's body with his own

"Thank you, Zidane." Zidane heard his brother whisper into his ear, before he felt two hands on each of his ribs. Suddenly, with overwhelming force, he found himself thrown off and to the side, all but tossed off the edge of the platform. With a silent cry Zidane reached out to his brother, making eye contact just as the floor moved to block their sight of one another. His right hand shot out, desperately reaching out to him. Only one name was on his lips...

* * *

"Kuja!"

With a start Zidane shot upwards. Body practically drenched in sweat - enough so that it had soaked the bed he lay in – the genome slowly placed both hands behind himself, giving the rest of his body something on which to lean. All was silent save for his slow, laboured breaths, each one coming easier than the last. Blinking a few times, his Cerulean eyes drifted slowly to the left. He was somewhere dark; he could barely...

Suddenly, screaming, Zidane fell back onto the bed, which only made him cry out again. His nervous system had finally kicked in, and with it came the pain his body had initially denied him. Only moments passed, but to his tired mind it felt like an eternity; weeks may as well have passed before the pain began to subside, rationality making its return.

Silently he stared at the roof. A roof meant he was inside...something. A house, maybe? He still couldn't see, eyes refusing to adjust to the darkness around him. The odd shape here or there, but nothing coherent. Nothing that would help him make sense of what was around him.

_What...happened?_ The last thing he could remember was falling through the air – he didn't even recall having hit the ground, or whatever it was his back struck to give him such a painful welcome to consciousness. Kuja. Kuja had... _That idiot!_ Zidane thought, glaring at the roof as though intending to set it aflame. The older genome had thrown him off, just moments before those vines struck. Kuja saved him. **_Again..._** Twice he had been saved that day, both times by the man whose heart he had – once upon a time – wished to carve out, assuming he even had one. Now? Zidane couldn't hate him. He couldn't get angry at him. He couldn't even shed a tear, tired as he was. Funny, that it took death to realize how precious life was...

With closed eyes Zidane shook his head, as though trying to free himself of such morbid thoughts. He could reflect on what happened later. For now, he needed to get his bearings...find out where he was, for starters. Upon opening his eyes the thief noted that they began to adjust. Those shapes he could make out in the ceiling turned out to be wooden supports – above it was pile upon pile of straw, diagonally leading upwards before lowering back down again. A wooden hut with a roof made of straw, then. That narrowed down the possibilities...

Then there was Zidane himself, and the bed on which he lay. He could feel something around his waist and legs – pants and trousers, if he were right, with the rest of his body free of clothing – but that was not all. There was something beneath it as well, as well as on his arms, as well as his waist. A brief look down his nose at his chest solved that mystery – bandages. One around his lower left arm, two on his right – beneath the shoulder and above the wrist – as well as a bunch of them across his legs, underneath his clothing. The only one he could see was the large one on his torso, covering his waist entirely and coming to a stop inches beneath his chest. If there was any blood he couldn't see it. Fresh bandages, maybe? He didn't remember having put them on. Besides, they were too neat to be his handiwork.

A quilt covered his body right up to his waist, white in color, similar to the bed on which he lay. He felt wet...sweat, probably, from the memory. Dream. Nightmare. He didn't know what to call it. Did it even matter? _Stop. Stop_ _thinking about it. Focus on getting up. _Zidane told himself, as though it were that simple.

Turning his head to the left, the genome narrowed his eyes somewhat upon seeing the outline of a door – though given the nature of where he was, chances were it was more a quilt covering or something like that. Daylight shone in through the sides between the cover itself and the walls of the hut, as well as through a number of cracks in the roof. That he could even make them out was good, surely. It meant his eyes were finally getting into gear. Further investigation turned up a table and chair in the corner just opposite his bed, though he couldn't tell if anything was on the former. There was nothing else he could see, though. It seemed to be a small, one-man hut, a few meters long and wide. That implied a village of some sort. -Somebody- had to have brought him here, right?

Just as he thought this he heard a ruffle of leather from the left, causing him to look as the door – now revealed to be a simple leather cover – was pushed aside, the daylight flooding in like water. Instinctively Zidane raised his left hand, wincing – both from the sudden light and from the pain in his arm – as he covered his face, turning his head away simultaneously. He could -_just_- make out a figure standing in the doorway through the cracks of his fingers, though its silhouette gave no indication as to who it-...

_Wait...is that a tail?_ He could have sworn he saw a tail waving left and right, behind the silhouette...

"I see you have returned to consciousness, Zidane Tribal." The voice was...cold, but had the occasional lift to it, almost reminding him of hidden relief or amusement. But the tone was unmistakeable. It sounded far too much like his own.

"Mikoto...?" At first Zidane asked only with a weak voice, but as his eyes centred on her, they began to make her features out. A faint frown creasing her fair, feminine face – which itself was framed by medium-length blonde hair, never making it halfway down her neck. She looked like a female him. Of course she did. It was his sister.

His vision inspiring his confidence, Zidane swung his legs over to the left, placing both feet on the ground; the quilt fell a few yards away, all but kicked off by the genome's feet – it hurt, but he was able to ignore it, or at least gave the pretence that it didn't. He was good at making out he was fine. "Mikoto!" Zidane grinned, unable to help himself; he was glad it was her and not somebody...else. He never thought he'd think something like that. Not after their initial meeting.

"Yes, that is my name." The female genome responded evenly, seeming to take Zidane's awakening in stride. Her voice almost gave the impression of a sigh, as though quietly mocking him for saying the obvious. Continuing to stare at him for a few moments with eyes as Cerulean as his own, she eventually turned to the right and proceeded forwards, reaching out with a hand to grasp the back of the chair and turn it about towards Zidane. "I thank you for the reminder."

Zidane blinked at that, looking at Mikoto with consternation. Did she really just say that? She must have been studying how Gaians interacted with each other. "Geez, humor? From you? How long was I asleep?" His words were intended as a joke, but his question was sincere nevertheless. Zidane felt like he'd slept forever...

"Nine months." Was the blunt reply.

Zidane simply stared at her as she turned about to sit in the chair, hands folded in her lap as she stared back at him, never so much as batting an eyelid. His jovial mood had died, just like that. "Nine...months." He repeated slowly to himself, never once escaping Mikoto's watchful gaze. That couldn't be right. He remembered fighting Necron and trying to save Kuja as though it were yesterday...nine months _couldn't_ be right.

"Yes. That was not humor." That was as flat as everything else she had said thus far. Zidane returned his eyes to hers, narrowing them somewhat as he did. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He knew she was telling the truth. She had no reason to lie. Could she lie? Did she even understand the concept?

As these things went through his mind, his younger sister never once looked away. Perhaps she was judging his health, or gauging his reaction. Maybe she was actually concerned? No, that couldn't be it. She probably saw this as some big, psychological experiment.

_You mustn't blame her. It's not her fault._ A familiar voice in his mind told him. She was cold and bottled up, maybe, but that didn't make her cruel or evil. She wouldn't keep him knocked unconscious just for the sake of some experiment. She wasn't...

"Try to relax, Zidane. Your mind needs time to process." As flat as ever, but he could have sworn there was the hint of concern in there. Well, nine months was a long time. Zidane and Kuja had developed personalities, become more than they were meant to be. Who said Mikoto couldn't do the same?

"...sorry." And with that Zidane sighed, eyes downcast as he gently shook his head. Mikoto looked on a moment longer before shaking her own, looking away as she did. "Why apologize? You have done nothing wrong." He didn't know why he apologized anyway. It was more to himself than her. Or maybe it was because he didn't know what else to say.

Silence prevailed between the two as he declined to answer her question. Seconds turned to minutes. Eventually, once he felt confident enough, Zidane raised his head again to look at Mikoto. There was a lot he needed to find out.

"How did you find me?" It wasn't the first question that came to mind, but to him it was the most important. Mikoto looked away a few seconds longer before finally looking back to him. She didn't take long to speak. She never did.

"Kuja informed me where to search, prior to his death." That was right, wasn't it? The three of them were capable of some sort of mind-communication. Telepathy, Kuja called it. "And after?" Zidane asked.

"Once his guidance disappeared...I followed the sound of your voice." That caused Zidane to blink once, gently tilting his head to the right. Follow his voice?

"What do you mean? Did I do the same thing, somehow?" At that Mikoto shook her head, closing her eyes briefly as she did. As though deciding exactly what words to use in the telling. "No. You were singing." If anything, that only made Zidane more confused. Singing? When unconscious?

"It was an...unusual song. Mystical. Soft and gentle, like the breeze." Only one song came to mind at that description...

"Was it-" Suddenly Zidane cut off, frowning faintly before shaking his head. "You know what, never mind. Go on. Where was I? What injuries did I have?" This earned an odd look from Mikoto, but Zidane didn't return it. He didn't need to ask her what the song was. He already knew. There was only one song it could possibly be.

Mikoto maintained her stare for a moment before continuing, regardless of his interruption. "I located you deep within the Iifa Tree beneath the roots and machinery, once its thrashing had come to a stop. You were collapsed on the ground, beside a series of vines about a hundred feet high, from which I assume you fell. I can only assume your fall was cushioned by some unknown force – nobody could have survived that under ordinary circumstances." Zidane figured he could answer that one. Kuja, again.

Mikoto went on to answer his second question, "You had numerous injuries, though most were skin-deep – cuts and gashes, across your chest, back, arms and legs. Only one was of any genuine threat; a stab wound upon your right arm, beneath the elbow. Nothing you need concern yourself with, though I strongly advise rest and recuperation." ''Advise'', she said. Near as Zidane could tell, when a woman said such things what they actually meant was ''Demand''.

Zidane, of course, had no intention of staying though he did not mention as much. He would cross that particular bridge when he came to it. He still had more questions.

"Okay. Where is everyone?" At that he simply received a blank stare, as though Mikoto wondered at who he was talking about. "Freya, Vivi, Steiner, Amarant, Eiko, Quina...Dagger...where are they all?"

Mikoto simply looked away towards the doorway, and again Zidane got the impression she was considering what to tell him. Before he could ask again, however, she began to speak; "Freya made her return to Burmecia in order to help it rebuild; she currently resides there with Sir Fratley. Amarant accompanied her for a time before going his own way – to where I cannot say." Zidane couldn't decide whether to be surprised at that or not. Of all people Freya was the one Amarant had grown closest to in the group. They had certain things in common...maybe. He didn't know. But he _did_ always see the two of them together...

"Eiko and Vivi wandered the world for a time before they too went their separate ways; the former now lives at Lindblum Castle as the adopted daughter of Regent Cid Fabool, whereas the former was accepted as Court Mage of Alexandria." At these Zidane was definitely surprised. Eiko, the child of a Noble family? He'd have to see it to believe it. A smile came to his lips at the thought of her throwing a tantrum in front of court. Vivi, on the other hand...no. He wasn't really surprised at that. Steiner and Vivi had always gotten along well, and Dagger had a soft spot for the black mage. Everybody did.

"Quina returned to his/her home in the swamp outside of Lindblum, and insofar as I am aware s/he resides there now." No surprises there. "Queen Garnet currently rules over Alexandria, with Steiner at her side as captain of the Royal Guard." Yes, that sounded about right. Where else would they all possibly go? Everybody had a life to return to, or a new one to lead. Everybody but...him.

Mikoto must have recognized the look in his eye, for her voice grew tender a moment, eyes narrowing somewhat – not out of anger or irritation, but...empathy? "You must miss them." And he did. All of them, though some more than others. Funny. That tone sounded almost...alien on Mikoto's voice. She was still new to the whole 'emotions' business.

"Yeah..." He said slowly after a moment or so of silence, turning his head so as to look to the door. The sunlight continued to pour in, illuminating the room and those inside. Fresh air accompanied it, and he could feel the wind on his bare chest, tickling him at the bandage. It felt...nice. Homely.

"Wait...where are we?" Zidane asked for a moment, turning his eyes again upon Mikoto. At that she, too, looked to the door.

"The Black Mage Village, away from the main settlement but still within the dimensional gateway." The...what now? Did she mean that spell that made the living forest seem dead? "Ahh...gotcha." Black Mage Village. That explained the hut. He wasn't really all that surprised; he had come to that conclusion some time ago. Besides, this was where they had brought all of the genomes. If Mikoto was here, then this had to be the place.

"It is time for you to rest, Zidane." Mikoto announced after a moment or so of further silence, feeling the conversation had come to its natural end – as she said before, Zidane's mind needed time to process all of this new information. Standing out of her chair, she looked pointedly at him, and he returned the stare, having every intention of fighting against her medical tyranny.

He never got the chance.

"Zidaaaaane!" With a cry of his name, a shape all but flew into Zidane, causing him to fall back on the bed with a grunt, a mix of pain and surprise. Whatever it was it was hugging him – tight – yet barely weighed anything at all. He recognized it well; enough so that he didn't need the pointed hat or blue robes to tell him who this figure was.

As if there were any doubt, his golden, glowing eyes had that gentle slope to them, as though he was smiling that kind of smile that split your face in half. With a quiet groan Zidane sat back up, lifting the short mage up off of him and setting him down on his knees, smiling weakly in response. It was hard not to smile with him.

"Hey, Vivi."

* * *

Author's Note; Just doing a little scene setting.

You all know the drill by now. R&R


End file.
